Dogsbody (19 page)

“Down near the river,” said Tibbles. “They’ve knocked a lot of houses down there, and it’s a good place for field-mice.”

“That place!” said Sirius. “That’s always the place! I wonder if the Zoi fell there—that would explain why it didn’t do any damage.”

“What
are
you talking about?” said Tibbles.

“Never mind. When was it? What time of year?”

“I saw them several times. I remember the Moon was big each time, but I don’t remember otherwise.”

Sirius bent his head until he had the Moon in view through the window. It was big now, about a day off full. He could see a slight flattening at one side. A great sense of urgency made him get off Kathleen’s bed and patter away downstairs. It was no good. All the doors were locked for the night. There was no way he could get out to find those cold hounds and bargain with Earth’s unhappy child. There was no way to get out of his dog’s body. He was a prisoner twice over—all because he had trusted a cold, white little luminary who had fewer kind feelings even than Duffie.

That was the real thing that was troubling Sirius. He had been such a fool. He roved around the house in his misery, up and down stairs, round and round the living room. The last of his green memories had come out from behind the warm cloud of dog thoughts, and he knew he had not remembered them before because he had not wanted to. They were hateful. His Companion had hated him and tried to get rid of him, and he had not believed it, even when she turned the Zoi on him.

He knew she hated him for not being easy to lead. If she pushed him too far, he got angry. So she had decided to use his rages against him and put the blue luminary from Castor in his place. He was sure the New-Sirius was the same fellow who had been chief witness at his trial. Both he and the Companion had made such a point of the rage Sirius had been in. And he
had
been in a rage. His Companion had first set a little luminary on to annoy him. Then she had taken the Zoi and killed the little luminary in cold blood. Sirius knew she had, although he had no proof. He had simply found her with the corpse and the Zoi. But she had never understood about Zoi, and she had used it so badly that the little luminary’s sphere had exploded as he died. Sirius had been furious with her. But he had told himself it was an accident. He had told himself it was an accident even when she aimed the Zoi at him and it had gone hurtling out into Sol’s sphere. Then along came the blue luminary while Sirius was half-stunned and said just the soothing sort of things calculated to put anyone in a rage. He had been too angry to think, even when he was arrested—and far, far too trusting. He would not say a word which would incriminate his Companion—but of course every word she had said had made him look more guilty. And he had still not believed she hated him and flown into a rage with the Judges instead. Fool, fool, fool!

“Will you stop tick-tacking about like that!” Remus said. He had managed to avoid being put out that night and was trying for a good night’s sleep on a shelf in the kitchen.

“Sorry.” Sirius considerately went and sat on the sofa. He rested his chin on the cushions and miserably watched a white line of
moonlight move slowly around like a spoke on the floor. He felt as if his green nature had fallen in ruins. He did not think he would ever find that Zoi. The moonlight had moved some way before he remembered Earth saying that there were worse fates than dying a dog. That comforted him. Earth was wise. It was Earth, after all, that had taught him what his Companion was like. Being a dog had its points, and it had certainly saved his life that morning.

He was nearly asleep at last, when his ears pricked and his head lifted. There was something going on in the yard.

“What’s that?” Remus asked sleepily, a second or so later.

“Hush!” Sirius was busy listening.

The back door clicked quietly open. Ozone-jasmine rolled to Sirius’s nostrils, and a green scent, achingly familiar except for strange blue overtones, came with it. Sirius slipped silently off the sofa, so that it stood between him and the kitchen door. He was fairly sure his last hour had come. His Companion was back, Sol was around the other side of Earth, and she had brought her Consort, New-Sirius, with her. She had only needed to ask Mrs. Partridge where he lived. Sirius could see the white nimbus from her through the kitchen door, and a blue one overlaid with green from the other.

There was a yowl of terror from Remus.
“There’s something strange about these people!”

After the yowl came a sharp movement, suddenly stopped. “No!” said the Companion. “Leave the creature.” It was clear that New-Sirius was well under her thumb. He left Remus alone. Sirius could almost see Remus standing in a stiff arch of terror on the
shelf. He wondered what the poor cat made of the speech of luminaries, as the Companion said, “Don’t touch any of them except the dog. Sol will bring the whole Galaxy down on us if we give him a chance.”

“Blast Sol to blazes!” grumbled New-Sirius. He
was
the chief witness. Sirius recognized his voice. “Who does Sol think he is? He’s only a small effulgent.”

“Sol,” said his Companion, “is a rude, cocksure, bullying, violent, crude little star. In some ways, he reminds me a lot of my late Consort.”

“All right, all right,” said New-Sirius. “Where is he? This dog?”

“Quite near. Somewhere in there,” said the Companion.

The two moved forward. And, as they moved, Remus’s nerve broke. He came down from the shelf with the scrambling flop of a cat in real terror and shot wailing away into the distance. Sirius could hear him yowling several backyards off.

That gave Sirius a notion. If he was going to die a dog, at least he should do it properly—just as Remus had behaved like a thoroughly scared cat. He drew a deep breath and began to bark. The noise startled him. He had not realized he had it in him to bay and thunder like this. He braced his four legs and bellowed.

“That’s torn it!” said New-Sirius.

“No fire!” the Companion warned him.

They appeared, two black figures, the larger moving in a blue-green aura, the smaller inside a white one. Sirius sensed their two blows coming and darted around the sofa, barking and barking. The sofa shook and sizzled, and lumps came off the back of it.
Sirius ran, still barking frantically, for shelter under the dining table. Blows hit the floor behind his back legs, cracking like whips and sparking like electricity. He dived into a forest of wooden legs, chair legs and table legs, and went on barking. A chair flashed and clattered in two under another blow.

“Drive him out. I can’t get at him,” said New-Sirius.

Sirius crouched, his eyes blazing, baying defiance and anger, and hoping hard. The family was awake. Feet were thumping upstairs. A blow from the Companion cracked on the floor beside him. He had to back away. And
bark, bark, bark,
squashed against the further chairs.

“What’s going on? What have they done to Remus?” Tibbles was on the back of the sofa in a white and spitting arch.

“Get down!”
Sirius bayed at her.

He was not sure if she obeyed him or not, New-Sirius, despite a sharp command from his Companion, swung an impatient blow toward the sofa. Blue-green flame smickered. And Tibbles vanished.

Sirius’s barking became partly howls of rage and sorrow. The Companion lashed at him again, so that the chairs jumped about. He knew the next blow would force him out on the other side of the table, and New-Sirius was coming around that way to get him.

“Leo!
Leo!
What’s happening? Where are you? Oh,
where’s
the light?”

Now it was Kathleen. Sirius could see her, dim and white, fumbling at the wall by the door for the light switch. Basil, by the sound, was coming downstairs behind her. But, after what had
happened to Tibbles, Sirius knew neither of them was safe. And he was not going to let anyone kill Kathleen. The idea filled him with green rage. He burst out from under the side of the table, scattering one whole chair and the two halves of another, and sprang for the Companion’s throat.

He took her completely by surprise. She had not thought he would attack her, and, secretly, she was still very much afraid of him. Instead of striking out, she defended herself. Kathleen had a momentary and bewildering sight of Leo leaping in a blaze of white light, and then spinning away sideways into the kitchen, snarling. The snarl became a yelp as his side hit the open back door. Then he was out in the yard, barking still, to make sure they went for him, not Kathleen.

They were out in the yard almost as soon as he was. And the yard gate was shut. Sirius had never dreamed he could jump that gate. But, with New-Sirius on his tail, he was in the air before he knew it, with blow after blow striking blue and green just beneath him as he rose. His back legs hit the top of the gate, and he dropped heavily into the lane. He was sure those blows had caught him, and he was almost too winded to stagger away.

“Get up and
run
!” said Earth from underneath him. “Come on!”

He got up. He hobbled. He tried to trot, and the lane was confusingly changed by white slabs of moonlight lying across it. Behind him, the gate clattered and bounced. His enemies, mercifully, were trying to behave like humans. Sirius supposed this was because the Duffields were shouting and switching on lights in the house.

A still, white voice above him said, “Do keep out of my light. I can’t stop your coat shining whatever I do. Run in the shadows.”

“Thanks, Moon.” Sirius veered and hobbled into the black blocks of shadow at the edge of the lane. He saw that it must be the Moon his enemies were trying to deceive. “Moon, do you know who those are?”

“Sol told me and asked me to keep an eye on you,” said the Moon.

“Run!” said Earth. “The gate’s open.”

At that news, Sirius forgot that his legs hurt. He ran in earnest, low and in the shadows.

“Turn right at the end of the lane,” said Earth. “Run like mad for fifty yards. There’s a big drain with a stream in it under the road. I’ll tell you where.”

Sirius raced for the place. His enemies, still acting human, saw which way he turned and pelted after him. The road was empty. So was the crossroad beyond. They came back, flashing cautious blue and white beams into gardens and alleys.

Sirius crouched beneath them in a big round concrete pipe, with his paws in a trickle of water, listening.

“Where is he?” said New-Sirius. “I won’t feel safe till he’s dead.” He sounded both cross and nervous. And no wonder, Sirius thought. He had let the Companion lead him to a point where he could lose both his new sphere and his life. “Suppose he finds the Zoi before we do,” he said.

“Quiet,” said the Companion. “I don’t think this planet is a fool, nor its satellite either.”

“They can’t do anything,” muttered New-Sirius. “Just wait till I find that Zoi. Then they’ll have to keep quiet, or the whole system will have an accident.” He stopped. Somewhere near a car was coming, fast. “What’s that?”

“It may be their police,” said the Companion. “We’d better hide. We can catch the dog easily when he tries to get home.”

Sirius listened to them receding. “Where are they?” he asked Earth.

“I’ve lost them,” said Earth. “Just a moment.” There was a busy pause. Sirius drank from the trickle of water and waited. The car stopped, somewhere near. “The Moon thinks they’re hiding behind the chimneys on the roof of your house,” Earth reported. “The police have just got there. Go out through the other end of this pipe and you won’t be seen. Don’t try to go home till Sol can see you.”

“Thank you,” Sirius said gratefully.

He crawled out of the pipe a street away and set off at once toward the center of the town. He crossed empty roads. He passed the silent Town Hall and trotted by lit-up deserted shops, growing sadder and sadder as he went. He knew he dared not go home at all now. Sol could protect him by day, but at night his enemies would come for him. In a way, it made things easier. He could hide in the place where the houses had been knocked down, and his providers would feed him. If he watched that place long enough, he was sure he would find the cold hounds, and the Zoi. He would just have to hope his enemies did not find him first. But he wished he did not feel so lonely and so sad.

He trotted mournfully into the cindery stretch, past the quiet,
hooded bulldozers. Rank, wet smells came from the overgrown part. He was trotting toward them, when large paws beat on the cinders behind him. Sirius whirled around, bristling. For a moment, he thought it was Yeff. The coat shone like frost under the Moon, and the dog’s ears seemed to be red.

“It’s all right. It’s only me. What luck meeting you!” said Bruce.

Sirius was overjoyed. He was not alone anymore. He bounded forward, wagging his tail, and Bruce ran to meet him. They stood hose to nose, tails softly waving, absolutely delighted.

“You see? I did get out,” Bruce said. “I pulled the whole wretched lock off this morning just after you left. I looked for you. You do get about, don’t you? I followed your scent all over town. I’ve never had such fun in my life. I met three old men, one after another, who all thought I was you and gave me things to eat. Then I went to an old lady’s house, and she knew I wasn’t you. She told me to go home, but she gave me a bone first. Then two policemen tried to catch me, and I had to pretend I was playing with them in order to get away. I can’t tell you all the things that happened! But I was getting awfully lonely when you came along. To tell the truth, I’d just decided to go home.”

“Would you mind staying out for a while?” Sirius asked. “I’d be glad of company. Things have gone rather badly for me tonight.”

“Not at all!” said Bruce. “I meant to stay out as long as I could. I’ll show you the place I found to sleep in, shall I?”

They trotted side by side into the grass and weeds. Bruce went to a mound of rubble near the middle. It had been there so long that bushes and small trees had sprung up on it. On the darker side
of it was a thicket of elders growing around a dry and sheltered hollow. Bruce pushed his way into it, through the husky, juicy smell of new elder leaves.